Passion's fire
by Izume Hope
Summary: While Sigyn's wedding goes up in smoke, she realises who the only person is that would have done this. [SigynxLoki]


It came out of nowhere.

The fire.

"THEORIC!" Her eyes were widened green orbs full of tears as she watched her entire life burn to the ground. The fire was everywhere, burning away the curtains that swayed in the smoke like the wings of a phoenix. The smoke itself was intoxicating and asphyxiating. It ate at her lungs, trying to paint them black as a winter's night.

She coughed and stumbled over her own feet, landing on her knees on the burning remains of what once was a buffet table. She uttered a shriek in immediate pain and rolled off it, falling onto her side. The air stung her eyes and would have made her tear up, if she hadn't been crying already. Salt, warm streams of sadness ran down her cheeks to be evaporated only.

Next to her lay the body of a friend she didn't recognise anymore. Her skin was red and covered in blisters, the blood had taken her identity from her. Sigyn lamented at the sight and shoved herself away from the body, as if death could infect her and take her as well. With shaking legs she rose up, her white dress striped with coal and ashes. She coughed again and made her way through the bodies and the destruction. From out of the fire she could hear the cries of someone meeting their end violently. The flames had taken over its victim's voice and roared, making her almost unable to distinguish between the fire and the screaming.

She stopped when she made out the silhouettes of two people still standing up. With one hand covering the bleeding wound on her arm, trying to stop the blood from seeping out mercilessly like it did, she stared at the scene. The smoke was like the veil that had once covered her eyes chastely. Together with her foggy mind, it took away her ability to see properly. But, oh, she recognised one of them.

"THEORIC!" she cried again. He didn't look up and she wondered whether the flames had captured her voice as well. The stranger's hand was around her betrothed's neck, the smoke danced around them like in a holy ritual of dark magic long forgotten. She could feel the heat pulling at her skin, laughing at her torn dress and trying to consume it. She couldn't care.

Suddenly the unidentified silhouette lashed out at her Theoric, a sharp blade singing through his flesh into his stomach. She could see him bow in pain and lose grip on his life. Something strange happened, making him shake and turn stiff afterwards. Then his body dropped onto the ground like a bag of sand. "NO!"

She rushed towards him and the strange silhouette turned to her. For a moment she thought she'd be next. She thought she could see the ghost of a smile through the smoke. A smile that ate away at her memory and made it try to remember where she'd seen it before. Nevertheless, her heart was distracted and she closed the distance between Theoric and her, sinking down on her knees there where he was. In front of her lay her betrothed, her past, her future. She looked at his wound, the gore blood gushing out. His eyes, once as blue as a summer sky, had already died. Now her voice belonged to him, calling out his name and screaming desperate nothings into the smoky air. He was pale as death and when she touched his face, his skin was cold as ice.

Ice?

Her eyes widened a little as she looked at her love's wound, searched his skin. The entry wound was pale as ashes, but it wasn't blood that came gushing out. Instead, cold blue ice fell from him as rain from the sky.

Without wanting to she stopped crying out and looked up, around, as if searching. The cold made her remember and, suddenly, her mind and voice did not belong to Theoric anymore. They didn't even belong to her anymore. It was another name she called out.

When she met him, it had only been spring for a week. She was out in the forest near their village, enjoying the fresh air and doing absolutely nothing. She always felt like that during the beginning of spring. First, there were a couple of weeks of enjoyment. After came an enormous amount of energy that welled up from inside her. She'd organise a dancing event or venture into the woods to climb trees and find extraordinary creatures. She'd run bare-foot over the solid earth and feel the grass underneath her skin. She'd dance across open places and swim in the river. That's the way Sigyn spent her spring. Honouring life. Thanking them that had given it to her.

But that day, spring had only just recently begun. Therefore, she was still in her calmer period. She walked thought the forest timidly, her hands folded neatly behind her back and a smile chiselled into her porcelain skin. She only stopped for a moment to look at a little red bird on the branch of a large tree. It chirped at her and she smiled back, before watching it fly off into the leaves, that rustled pleasantly at its departure. 'Go,' they said 'Fly.'

"Are you trapped?"

The girl quickly turned around Twhen the voice reached her ears, startled by its sudden appearance. She saw but a flash of him. Then he was gone again. She blinked and then looked at her the place with narrowed eyes, taking a few steps towards it. The earth was cold underneath her bare feet.

"I'm here."

There was amusement in his voice and again she turned, her eyes shining with some sort of excitement. Although she was dealing with a stranger, not a thought of mischief came to her mind. She felt completely at ease. By the time she laid eyes on the place he'd appeared, he was gone again, leaving nothing but a soft laughter. "Don't go," she told him quickly.

"Why, I never considered it."

She looked up to the new place where his voice was coming from, up in a tree. This time he didn't go and she could take a good look at him. He sat across a large branch, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles. He held a small rock in his hand and played around with it a little. Then he looked down at her again. His smile was extraordinary. Unwillingly, her heart skipped a beat.

"How do you do that?" she asked him fascinatedly. Some of her dark blonde tresses had escaped the string in her hair and danced around her face delicately.

He looked at her for a moment, then got up and jumped down from the branch, landing about ten feet away from her. His motion never stopped as he immediately started walking towards her. It looked a lot like a dance to her. "It's magic."

She looked at him with wonder and curiosity. "That's extraordinary…"

His smile widened for a moment, but there was something slightly bitter about it, together with a strange sort of surprise. "Quite," he said. By then he had reached her and he stopped. He was a little taller than her, but she didn't feel intimidated. She looked at him and he looked back. His eyes were the strongest blue she'd ever seen.

"Who are you?" was her inevitable next question. It rolled off her tongue like the name of her favourite dish.

"I am Loki," he told her without hesitation "Of Asgard."

"Of Asgard…?" she repeated, the light in her eyes brightening "How interesting… Then what are you doing here, in Vanaheim?"

"I have some business with your king," he said.

She blinked. With the king? If his intention was to see the king, he was a very ambitious man. Or, of course, a very powerful man. Loki of Asgard… She hadn't heard of him before. Then again, she hadn't heard of many things beyond her village. They didn't concern her.

"Why," she said "Then I am afraid you are terribly lost. You won't find the king here."

"I know that," he said softly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly to underline he wasn't stupid.

Somehow, she blushed a little, as if she'd been the one that had said something stupid. She looked down and put a strand of escaped hair behind her ear.

"Who are you?" he asked her in turn.

She looked up again. "I'm Sigyn. Of Vanaheim." She was not sure whether to add that or not. He'd done it, so it only seemed natural that she would as well. Then again, it was a strange thing to say. Was it not obvious that she was from Vanaheim? What if she'd insulted him?

He didn't look insulted, though. He smiled and repeated her name. "Sigyn. And what are you doing out in the woods all by yourself, Sigyn?"

She tilted her head lightly. "Nothing much. I'm simply walking around a little and enjoying the recently arrived spring."

"Ah, yes…" Loki looked up at the leaves that danced in the sunlight above their heads "Springtime."

"Yes," she said, joining him in his staring before looking back at his face. His skin was pale like hers and absolutely perfect, with prominent cheekbones and thin lips. Never before had she seen such beauty in a man. She couldn't resist questioning him more. "Is it spring in Asgard now as well?"

He looked at her, the light blue bursting in through the door of her mind and creating chaos in her head. She brought her hands behind her back again and clenched them to small fists to keep some sort of control over herself.

"It is," he said. He kept looking at her and she could see curiosity in his eyes. "Have you never been to Asgard?"

"I've never been anywhere but here," Sigyn answered, gesturing at their surroundings. The beautiful forest was all she'd ever needed, her village the only home she'd sought. Her arms dropped a little and some sort of vague sadness came over her. "At least, as far as I know."

"How so?" he asked, coming a little closer to her.

She looked at him and smiled, then looked down at herself for a moment. "Well, you must have noticed that I am not from here. I was brought here, as a child." Indeed, Vanaheim's inhabitants were nothing like her. Their skin was rougher and tinted by the sunlight. Their eyes were darker and their postures bigger. Their expressions were sharper, like hawks. She was nothing like a hawk. She was merely a little dove.

She had caught his attention, she could tell. There was something in his eyes she didn't quite understand. Something almost hopeful, something surprised and a little tender. He looked as if he was about to be handed a glass sculpture. "Then, where are you from?" he asked.

"I do not know," she admitted to him with a smile. She stared up at the leaves above them again, the way the sunlight played with them and made them change every second. "To me, it hardly matters. This is my home."

"Then…" he started carefully. She looked back at him. The glass sculpture was within his reach now. He reached out his hands to it, carefully, he didn't want to break it. It was oh so fragile. "Are you alone?"

She smiled warmly at him and thought of her family. "No," she answered "I have my family." That confused him, she could tell. "They are not my family by blood," she explained to him "But, to me, blood is not what makes a family. Family is made by love. So these people are my family."

His eyes grew a little colder, but it wasn't because of her, somehow. It was because of what she said, yes, but he didn't mind that she said it. That's what it seemed like. He didn't like it, but it suited her. "Do you mean the people that took you in?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered "That is my family."

His smile widened again for a moment because of something she didn't understand. There was something going inside his head, some sarcastic kind of thought, that made him smile like that. It was bitter and extremely handsome. Then his expression became careful again and he approached the glass sculpture once more. "Shall I tell you a secret?"

"I will listen," she said, tilting her head once more. What did he want to tell her?

"You have to promise not to run," he said with tension in his voice.

She blinked in surprise and smiled at him, reaching out to touch his hand for a moment. "I promise."

He nodded and simply looked at her. She waited for him to say something, but instead his skin started moving. It was the most extraordinary sight as the texture of his body changed, forming circles all over him. His skin turned blue and his eyes a clear red, the kind of red that fresh blood is when it falls from a wound, before it touches the ground. And, no, she did not run. Instead she reached out and touched his face, feeling the rough texture underneath her small fingers. She traced the circles on his face with the tip of her finger, then down to his chin and further, over his neck. His skin was cold as ice. "It's cold," she stated the obvious softly.

A small smile appeared on his face. "I am not entirely from Asgard," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked him without looking him in the eye. Her eyes were set on the circles on his skin, disappearing underneath his clothing. They felt like scars.

"I am a Jotun," he told her, his eyes fixed on hers, although she was not looking at him.

"You are beautiful," she said softly and finally she looked him in the eye again. She couldn't tell what he was thinking at all.

"You must not tell anyone," he said. His skin changed back again, together with his eyes. The cold that dripped from him disappeared.

She smiled softly and brought down her hands. "I hardly have anyone to tell. Only Theoric, I think. But I fear he would not believe me."

"Theoric?" he repeated, somehow alarmed.

Sigyn smiled at him. "Yes. My fiancé."

He looked at her with a poker face that could do nothing but impress. "You are engaged."

"Indeed I am," she said, still smiling while thinking of Theoric.

"You love him," he proceeded.

She nodded and her smile widened. "I do, very dearly. My brother is my best friend in the world."

He narrowed his eyes again for a moment. She thought he was confused again, but she wasn't certain. "Your brother?"

She nodded again. "Yes, although not by blood. Theoric is my brother."

"And you regard him as such?" he asked, a little bit of the carefulness back in his voice.

"Yes," she said, not sure where he was going with his questions.

"Then do you not think it strange?"

"Think what strange?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"That you are marrying your brother."

She blinked and thought about that for a moment. "Well… It's normal, to me. I mean… It was decided when we were both mere children. Our parents always say that it was fate that brought me to them, to become Theoric's wife one day. Therefore, no, I do not think it strange."

"An arranged marriage?" he asked, his eyebrows arching a little.

"I suppose so…" she said, not sure of what to think "Although I agree whole-heartedly. I love my brother."

"Yes," he said quickly "But do you love him?"

"I just said I did," she answered him, terribly confused now.

"Yes, yes," he repeated impatiently "You love him. But do you _love_ him? Not as a brother, as a man."

Sigyn's green eyes were in chaos, as was her mind. She really didn't follow his train of thought. "As a… What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he said and he took a step closer to her. Sigyn took a step back in reflex, suddenly intimidated by his soft voice and strong eyes. "Does he accelerate your heart?" She gulped and tried to ignore the way her heart was speeding up rapidly. "Does his presence make you swoon?" he proceeded with another step. She was speechless, but uttered some incoherent words soundlessly. "Does the thought of him stir your insides?" He stopped right in front of her, his face terribly close. She did not move. "Does his kiss…" he said softly as he closed in. She could feel his breath on her trembling lips. "… make you burn with passion?" He closed his eyes.

She stumbled backwards just as his lips touched her, a fluttering tenderness that burned her like no touch had ever done so before. "Do not tempt me," she stammered.

He opened his eyes and they were cold as ice, yet burning with frustration and indignation. "Will you deny yourself that?" he asked in a sharp voice.

"I will never betray him," she answered him immediately, her eyes strong while she straightened her back.

"Because you love him?" he asked her, mocking her with his voice.

"Because he is to be my husband," she fired back poisonously "That is enough reason for me."

He was quiet for a moment, studying her face. "Merely because he is your fiancé…" he then said softly "You will never betray him?"

"As I said," she answered him "That is enough reason for me."

"Even if he were to repay your fidelity with treachery?" he asked her, looking at her as if she was something between insane and divine.

"Even then," she answered, fire in her eyes.

"Even if he betrayed you? If he locked you away for eternity or abused you?"

"Even if he were to turn into a monster," she told him "I would never betray him."

"And if it hadn't been him?"

"Then still. I would never betray my husband."

"That's madness!" Emotion poured from his eyes now, frustration, but also hope and anger and some sort of fear. As if she was bringing something upon us as she spoke. As if she was changing everything just by saying that. Honestly, she was a little scared herself. But she could not help it. She looked down at her hands. "Is it madness?" she asked softly without looking up at him. Then when she did, his jaw had practically dropped.

"It is," he stammered.

She smiled at him, acceptance flowing from her eyes. "Then call me a madmen. Put me in an asylum. It shall not change the way I think."

He stared at her and it looked like he'd calmed down again. Nevertheless, something new now came over him. Something confident and strong, but also mischievous and just a little mean. "No, not an asylum…" he said softly.

She looked at him with her strong eyes and a poker face of her own. Then, suddenly, he was right in front of her again, taking her face into his strong hands and pushing his lips onto her in a sudden, warm touch. This didn't burn her, but instead sent lightening all through her body, making her tingle in places she hadn't known existed. Her eyes widened in shock as he deepened their kiss quickly and she tasted him. Her mind was in chaos and she went weak at the knees. He took complete power over her and for a moment it felt like he was never going to stop. But then he did, and she moved with him as he pulled back, as if to instinctively try to make the kiss last longer. 'More,' her heart screamed 'I need more of this.' She was not ready to let go.

When his lips left hers she opened her eyes, out of breath and eyes wildly alive. His face was still close to hers and he caressed her face with his fingers, looking at her tenderly for a moment or two. "I forced you," he then said. That was the last thing she heard of him. The next moment, he was gone. She was alone.

"LOKI!"

The name left her mouth in a horrendous raw scream, carving its way through the smoke and dancing with the fire before running into the evening air. In that moment, all her inhibitions vanished into thin air and her instincts took her over completely. Her scream lasted for what seemed hours and she could feel some sort of tension building up inside of her body. She made no effort to stop it and, instead, let it in, let it take hold of her soul. Her entire body started to light up and become illuminated. The light grew and grew, becoming stronger and stronger with the second until eventually it would blind even the sun. Her hair danced around her face and her heart beat rapidly as the light consumed the fire like it had tried to consume her, making it run around frantically in long tongues of flames. But nothing could escape the light, even Theoric's body warmed up underneath her. When the light dimmed again, all of the fire was gone. There was nothing but the smouldering remains of a festive wedding, having been turned into a dreadful funeral. Sigyn stretched her neck to the moon and cried.

6


End file.
